"Hey Dad," one of my kids asked the
other day, "What was your favorite fast food when you were growing up?"
"We didn't have fast food when I was growing up," I informed him. "All the food
was slow."

"C'mon, seriously. Where did you eat?"

"It was a place called 'at home,'" I explained. "Grandma cooked every day and
when Grandpa got home from work, we sat down together at the dining room table,
and if I didn't like what she put on my plate I was allowed to sit there until I
did like it."

By this time, the kid ! was laug hing so hard I was afraid he was going to
suffer serious internal damage, so I didn't tell him the part about how I had to
have permission to leave the table. But here are some other things I would have
told him about my childhood if I figured his system could have handled it:

Some parents NEVER owned their own house, wore Levis,
set foot on a golf course, traveled out of the country or had a credit card. In
their later years they had something called a revolving charge card. The card
was good only at Sears Roebuck. Or maybe it was Sears AND
Roebuck. Either way, there is no Roebuck anymore. Maybe he died.

My parents never drove me to soccer practice. This was mostly because we never
had heard of soccer. I had a bicycle that weighed probably 50 pounds, and only
had one speed, (slow). We didn't have a television in our house until I was 11,
but my grandparents had one before that. It was, of course, black and white, but
they bought a piece of colored plastic to cover the screen. The top third was
blue, like! the sky , and the bottom third was green, like grass. The middle
third was red. It was perfect for programs that had scenes of fire trucks riding
across someone's lawn on a sunny day. Some people had a lens taped to the front
of the TV to make the picture look larger.

I was 13 before I tasted my first pizza, it was called "pizza pie." When I bit
into it, I burned the roof of my mouth and the cheese slid off, swung down,
plastered itself against my chin and burned that, too. It's still the best pizza
I ever had.

We didn't have a car until I was 15. Before that, the only car in our family was
my grandfather's Ford. He called it a "machine."

I never had a telephone in my room. The only phone in the house was in the
living room and it was on a party line. Before you could dial, you had to listen
and make sure some people you didn't know weren't already using the line.

Pizzas were not delivered to our home. But milk was.

All newspapers were delivered by boys an d all boys delivered newspapers. I
delivered a newspaper, six days a week. It cost 7 cents a paper, of which I got
to keep 2 cents. I had to get up at 4 AM
every morning. On Saturday, I had to collect the 42 cents from my customers. My
favorite customers were the ones who gave me 50 cents and told me to keep the
change. My least favorite customers were the ones who seemed to never be home on
collection day.

Movie stars kissed with their mouths shut. At least, they did in the movies.
Touching someone else's tongue with yours was called French kissing and they
didn't do that in movies. I don't know what they did in French movies. French
movies were dirty and we weren't allowed to see them.

If you grew up in a generation before there was fast food, you may want to share
some of these memories with your children or grandchildren. Just don't blame me
if they bust a gut laug! hing.

Growing up isn't what it used to be, is it?

MEMORIES from a friend:

My Dad is cleaning out my grandmother's house (she died in December) and he
brought me an old Royal Crown Cola bottle. In the bottle top was a stopper with
a bunch of holes in it. I knew immediately what it was, but my daughter had no
idea. She thought they had tried to make it a salt shaker or something. I knew
it as the bottle that sat on the end of the ironing b! oard to "sprinkle"
clothes with because we didn't have steam irons. Man, I am old.

How many do you remember?

Head lights dimmer switches on the floor.
Ignition switches on the dashboard.
Heaters mounted on the inside of the fire wall.
Real ice boxes.
Pant leg clips for bicycles without chain guards.
Soldering irons you heat on a gas burner.
Using hand signals for cars without turn signals.

Older Than Dirt Quiz:
Count all the ones that you remember not the ones you were told about Ratings at
the bottom.

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken
aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, he was
immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question,
and I would ponder it, and let him know.

Old Age,
I decided, is a gift.

I am
now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to
be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body: the wrinkles, the baggy
eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that
lives in my mirror, but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, and my loving
family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become kinder
to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't
chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for
buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on
my patio. I am entitled to overeat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have
seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the
great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4
a.m, and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60's,and if I, at the same time, wish to weep
over a lost love ... I will.

I
will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body,
and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying
glances from the bikini set.

They,
too, will get old.

I know I
am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten
... and I eventually remember the important things.

Sure,
over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you
lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when a beloved pet gets hit
by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and
compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know
the joy of being imperfect.

I am so
blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turn gray, and to have my
youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have
never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver. I can
say "no," and mean it. I can say "yes." and mean it.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other
people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to
be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like
the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still
here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about
what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day.

Author
Unknown

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A sick man turned to his doctor, as he was preparing to leave the examination
room and said, "Doctor, I am afraid to die. Tell me what lies on the other
side."

Very quietly, the doctor said, "I don't know."

"You don't know? You, a Christian man, do not know
what is on the other side?"

The doctor was holding the handle of the door; on the other side came a sound of
scratching and whining, and as he opened the door, a dog sprang into the room
and leaped on him with an eager show of gladness.

Turning to the patient, the doctor said, "Did you notice my dog? He's never been
in this room before. He didn't know what was inside. He knew nothing except that
his master was here, and when the door opened, he sprang in without fear. I know
little of what is on the other side of death, but I do know
one thing... I know my Master is there and that is enough."

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Let's see,
I think it started when someone complained
and didn't want any prayer in our schools.

And we said, OK..

------------------

Then,
someone said you better not read the Bible in school,
the Bible that says
"thou shalt not kill,
thou shalt not steal,
and love your neighbors as yourself,"

And we said, OK...

-----------------

Dr. Benjamin
Spock said
we shouldn't spank our children
when they misbehaved
because their little personalities
would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem.

And we said,
an expert should know what he's talking about
so we won't spank them anymore..

------------------

Then someone
said
teachers and principals better not
discipline our children when they misbehave.
And the school administrators said
no faculty member in this school
better touch a student when they misbehave
because we don't want any bad publicity,
and we surely don't want to be sued.

And we accepted their reasoning...

------------------

Then someone
said,
let's let our daughters have abortions if they want,
and they won't even have to tell their parents.

And we said, that's a grand idea...

------------------

Then some
wise school board member said,
since boys will be boys
and they're going to do it anyway,
let's give our sons all the condoms they want,
so they can have all the fun they desire,
and we won't have to tell their parents they got them at school.

And we said, that's another great idea...

------------------

Then some of
our top elected officials said
it doesn't matter what we do in private as long as we do our jobs.

And we said,
it doesn't matter what anybody,
including the President,
does in private as long as we have jobs and the economy is good....

------------------

And someone else took that
appreciation a step further
and published pictures of nude children
and then stepped further still by
making them available on the Internet.

And we said, everyone's entitled to free speech....

------------------

And the
entertainment industry said,
let's make TV shows and movies that promote
profanity, violence and illicit sex...
And let's record music that encourages
rape, drugs, murder, suicide, and satanic themes...

And we said,
it's just entertainment
and it has no adverse effect
and nobody takes it seriously anyway,
so go right ahead.

------------------

Now we're
asking ourselves
why our children have no conscience,
why they don't know right from wrong,
and why it doesn't bother them to
kill strangers, classmates or even themselves.

------------------

Undoubtedly,
if we thought about it long and hard enough,
we could figure it out.
I'm sure it has a great deal to do with...

"WE REAP WHAT WE SOW,"

------------------

Pass it on
if you think it has merit!
If not then just discard it...
but if you discard this thought process,
then don't you dare sit back and complain about
what bad shape this country is in!

------------------

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1. If you choose:
Red
- You are alert and your life is full of love.
Black
- You are conservative and aggressive.
Green
- Your soul is relaxed and you are laid back.
Blue-
You are spontaneous and love kisses and affection from the
ones you love.
Yellow
- You are a very happy person and give good advice to
those who are down.

2. If your initial is:
A-K
You have a lot of love and friendships in your life.
L-R
You try to enjoy your life to the maximum &your love life
is soon to blossom. S-Z You like to ! help others and your future love
life looks very good.

3. If you were born in:
Jan-Mar:
The year will go very well for you and you will discover
that you fall in love with someone totally unexpected.
April-June:
You will have a strong love relationship that will not
last long but the memories will last forever.
July-Sep:
You will have a great year and will experience a major
life-changing experience for the good.
Oct-Dec:
Your love life will not be great, but eventually you will
find your soul mate.

4. If you chose:
Black:
Your life will take on a different direction, it will seem
hard at the time but will be the best thing for you, and
you will be glad for the change. White: You will have a friend who completely
confides in you and would do anything for you, but you may
not realize it.

5. This person is your best friend.

6. This is how many close friends you have in your
lifetime.

7. If you chose:
California:
You like adventure.
Florida:
You are a laid back person.

8. If you chose:
Lake:
You are loyal to your friends and your lover and are very
reserved.
Ocean:
You are spontaneous and like to please people.

9. This wish will come true, and it will come true before
your next birthday.

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Every February, across the country gifts are exchanged, all in the name of
St. Flounder. But who is this mysterious saint and why do we celebrate
this holiday? The history of Flounder’s Day -- and its patron saint -- is
shrouded in mystery. St. Flounder’s Day, as we know it today, contains
vestiges of both Christian and ancient Roman tradition. So, who was Saint
Flounder, and how did he become associated with this ancient rite?

One legend contends that Flounder was a boy slave who was later freed and
became a priest who served during the third century in Rome.
When Emperor Claudius II decided that single men made better fishermen
than those with wives and families, he outlawed marriage for young men --
his crop of potential fishermen. Flounder, realizing the injustice of the
decree, defied Claudius and continued to perform marriages for young
lovers in secret. When Flounder’s actions were discovered, Claudius
ordered that he be put to death. Flounder’s slave master, Bass Masterson,
came to Flounder’s rescue and paid for Flounder’s release.

Today we celebrate Bass Masterson’s slave-boy Flounder and this day as St.
Flounder’s Day. Yes, Flounder the priest became Pope Flounder and later
was given the title of Saint.

It should be noted that Bass Masterson’s name was shortened and today we
celebrate his contribution in history by holding the Bass Masters each
year. This is where married men become single for a few days and go
fishing for big bucks.

Tradition has it that Flounder’s Day cards are exchanged mid February each
year between all fishermen and fisherwomen and sometimes steak is served
for dinner.

Charles
Plumb was a US
Navy jet pilot in
Vietnam. After 75 combat missions,
his plane was destroyed by a surface-to-air missile. Plumb ejected
and parachuted into enemy hands. He was captured and spent 6 years
in a communist Vietnamese prison. He survived the ordeal and now
lectures on lessons learned from that experience!

One day, when Plumb and his wife were sitting in a restaurant, a man
at another table came up and said, "You're Plumb! You flew jet
fighters in
Vietnam from the aircraft
carrier Kitty Hawk. You were shot
down!"

Plumb couldn't sleep that night, thinking about that man. Plumb
says, I kept wondering what he had looked like in a Navy uniform: a
white hat; a bib in the back; and bell-bottom trousers. I wonder how
many times I might have seen him and not even said 'Good morning,
how are you?' or anything because, you see, I was a fighter pilot
and he was just a sailor." Plumb thought of the many hours the
sailor had spent at a long wooden table in the bowels of the ship,
carefully weaving the shrouds and folding the silks of each chute,
holding in his hands each time the fate of someone he didn't know.

Now, Plumb asks his audience, "Who's packing your parachute?"
Everyone has someone who provides what they need to make it through
the day. He also points out that he needed many kinds of parachutes
when his plane was shot down over enemy territory -- he needed his
physical parachute, his mental parachute, his emotional parachute,
and his spiritual parachute. He called on all these supports before
reaching safety.

Sometimes in the daily challenges that life gives us, we miss what
is really important. We may fail to say hello, please, or thank you,
congratulate someone on something wonderful that has happened to
them, give a compliment, or just do something nice for no reason.

I've taking this moment to
recognize
those who have packed my parachute.

Sometimes, we wonder why friends keep forwarding jokes to us without
writing a word. Maybe this could explain it: When you are very busy,
but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do -- you forward
jokes.
And to let you know that you are still remembered, you are still
important, you are still loved, you are still cared for, guess what
you get? A forwarded joke.

So
my friend, next time when you get a joke, don't think that you've been
sent just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of
today and your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send
you a smile, just helping you pack your parachute........

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(Under age 40? You won't understand.)
You could hardly see for all the snow,
Spread the rabbit ears as far as they go.
Pull a chair up to the TV set,
"Good Night, David. Good Night, Chet."
Depending on the channel you tuned,
You got Rob and Laura - or Ward and June.
It felt so good. It felt so right.
Life looked better in black and white.
I Love Lucy, The Real McCoys,
Dennis the Menace, the Cleaver boys,
Rawhide, Gunsmoke, Wagon Train,
Superman, Jimmy and Lois Lane.
Father Knows Best, Patty Duke,
Rin Tin Tin and Lassie too,
Donna Reed on Thursday night! --
Life looked better in black and white.
I want to go back to black and white.
Everything always turned out right.
Simple people, simple lives.
Good guys always won the fights.
Now nothing is the way it seems,

In living
color on the TV screen.
Too many murders, too many fights,
I want to go back to black and white.
In God they trusted, alone in bed, they slept,
A promise made was a promise kept.
They never cussed or broke their vows.
They'd never make the network now.
But if I could, I'd rather be
In a TV town in '53.
It felt so good. It felt so right.
Life looked better in black and white.
I'd trade all the channels on the satellite,
If I could just turn back the clock tonight

To when everybody knew wrong from right.
Life was better in black and white!

Another Goody For The Old-timers

My Mom used to cut chicken, chop eggs and spread mayo on the same
cutting
board with the same knife and no bleach, but we didn't seem to get foodpoisoning.

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There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had
been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order,"
she contacted her Pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain
aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she
would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.

Everything was in order and the Pastor was preparing to leave when the young
woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

"There's one more thing," she said excitedly.

"What's that?" came the Pastor's reply.

"This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a
fork in my right hand."

The Pastor stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.

That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Pastor.

The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from
that time on I have always tried to pass along its message to those I love and
those who are in need of encouragement. In all my years of attending socials
and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were
being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It
was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like
velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with
substance!'

So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and
I want them to wonder "What's with the fork?" Then I want you to tell them:
"Keep your fork ..the best is yet to come."

The Pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman
good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before
her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven
than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many
people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge. She KNEW
that something better was coming.

At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the
cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the
Pastor heard the question, "What's with the fork?" And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the Pastor told the people of the conversation he had with
the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and
about what it symbolized to her. He told the people how he could not stop
thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to
stop thinking about it either.

He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork let it remind you,
ever so gently, that the best is yet to come. Friends are a very rare jewel,
indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear,
they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us.

Show your friends how much you care. Remember to always be there for them, even
when you need them more. For you never know when it may be their time to "Keep
your fork."

Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share ... being friends with
someone is not an opportunity but a sweet responsibility.

And keep your fork.

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Last week
when purchasing a coffee at Dunking Donuts for $1.58. The counter girl
took my $2 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my
pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3
pennies, while looking at the screen on her register. I sensed her
discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she
hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to
her, she stood there and cried.

Why do I tell you this? Because of the evolution in teaching math since
the 1950s:

Teaching Math In 1950

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is
4/5 of the price. What is his profit?

Teaching Math In 1960

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is
4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

Teaching Math In 1970

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is
$80. Did he make a profit?

Teaching Math In 1980

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is
$80 and his profit is $20. Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

Teaching Math In 1990

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and
inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the
preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of
$20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class
participation after answering the question: How did the birds and
squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong
answers.)

I envy Kevin. My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed. At least
that's what I heard him say one night.

He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, "A re
you there, God?" he said. "Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed..."

I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives
are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long
after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin
lives in.

He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of
difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are
few ways in which he is an adult.

He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he
always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed,
that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas
and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.

I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different.
Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life?

Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to
walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for
dinner, and later to bed.

The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly
over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child. He does not
seem dissatisfied.

He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.

He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before
dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his
next day's laundry chores.

And Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin
to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate
loudly on the destination of each passenger inside.

"That one's goin' to Chi-car-go!" Kevin shouts as he claps his hands. His
anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights. And so goes
his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips. He doesn't know what it
means to be discontent. His life is simple.

He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care
what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have
always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.

His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When
he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in
it.

He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job
until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.

He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure.
He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when
you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.

Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry
when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere.
And he trusts God.

Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a
child. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way
that is difficult for an "educated" person to grasp. God seems like his
closest companion.

In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity I
envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith. It is then that I am most
willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge
that rises above my mortal questions.

It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap . . I
am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances -they all become
disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.

Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has
spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and
soaking up the goodness and love of God.

And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed
at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the
simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.

Kevin won't be surprised at all!

When you receive this, please say a prayer. That's all you have to do. There
is nothing attached. This is powerful.

Prayer is one of the best free gifts we receive. There is no cost, but a lot
of rewards.

FRIENDS ARE ANGELS WHO LIFT US TO OUR FEET WHEN OUR WINGS HAVE TROUBLE
REMEMBERING HOW TO FLY.

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She was very good-looking woman and determined to keep the ranch, but knew
very little about ranching, so she decided to place an ad in the newspaper for
a ranch hand. Two cowboys applied for the job. One was gay and the other a
drunk.

She thought long and hard about it, and when no one else applied she decided
to hire the gay guy, figuring it would be safer to have him around the house
than the drunk.

He proved to be a hard worker who put in long hours every day and knew a lot
about ranching. For weeks, the two of them worked, and the ranch was doing
very well.
Then one day, the rancher's widow said to the hired hand,

"You have done a really good job, and the ranch looks great. You should go
into town and kick up your heels."

The hired hand readily agreed and went into town one Saturday night.
One o'clock came, however, and he didn't return. Two o'clock, and no hired
hand.

He returned around two-thirty, and upon entering the room, he found the
rancher's widow sitting by the fireplace with a glass of wine, waiting for
him. She quietly called him over to her.

"Now unbutton my blouse and take it off," she said.

Trembling, he did as she directed.

"Now take off my boots."
He did as she asked, ever so slowly.

"Now take off my socks."
He removed each gently and placed them neatly by her boots.

"Now take off my skirt."
He slowly unbuttoned it, constantly watching her eyes in the firelight.

"Now take off my bra."
Again, with trembling hands, he did as he was told and dropped it to the
floor.

"Now," she said, "take off my panties."
By the light of the fire, he slowly pulled them down and off.

Then she looked at him and said,

"If you ever wear my clothes into town again, you're fired."

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Jennifer's wedding day was fast approaching. Nothing could dampen her
excitement -- not even her parents' nasty divorce. Her mother had found the
PERFECT dress to wear and would be the best dressed mother-of-the-bride
ever!

A week later, Jennifer was horrified to learn that her father's new young
wife had bought the exact same dress as her mother! Jennifer asked her step
mom to exchange it, but she refused. "Absolutely not. I look like a
million bucks in this dress, and I'm wearing it," she replied.

Jennifer told her mother who graciously said, "Never mind sweetheart. I'll
get another dress. After all, it's your special day."

A few days later, they went shopping and did find another gorgeous dress.
When they stopped for lunch, Jennifer asked her mother, "Aren't you going to
return the other dress? You really don't have another occasion where you
could wear it."

Her mother just smiled and replied, "Of course I do, dear. I'm wearing it
to the rehearsal dinner the night before the wedding."

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I got this in my email this morning. What a great way
to support our troops! As a Company, Southwest Airlines is going to support "Red
Fridays."

Last week I was in Atlanta, Georgia attending a
conference. While I was in the airport, returning home, I heard several people
behind me beginning to clap and cheer. I immediately turned around and witnessed
one of the greatest acts of patriotism I have ever seen.

Moving through the terminal was a group of soldiers in
their camo's, as they began heading to their gate everyone (well almost
everyone) was abruptly to their feet with their hands waving and cheering. When
I saw the soldiers, probably 30-40 of them, being applauded and cheered for it
hit me. I'm not alone. I'm not the only red blooded American who still loves
this country and supports our troops and their families. Of course I immediately
stopped and began clapping for these young unsung heroes who are putting their
lives on the line everyday for us so we can go to school, work and home without
fear or reprisal.

Just when I thought I could not be more proud of my
country or of our service men and women a young girl, not more than 6 or 7 years
old, ran up to one of the male soldiers. He kneeled down and said "hi," the
little girl then she asked him if he would give something to her daddy for her.
The young soldier, he didn't look any older than maybe 22 himself, said he would
try and asked her what did she want to give to her daddy? Then suddenly the
little girl grabbed the neck of this soldier, gave him the biggest hug she could
muster and then kissed him on the cheek.

The mother of the little girl, who said her daughter's
name was Courtney, told the young soldier that her husband was a Marine and had
been in Iraq for 11 months now. As the mom was explaining how much her daughter,
Courtney, missed her father, the young soldier began to tear up. When this
temporarily single mom was done explaining her situation, all of the soldiers
huddled together for a brief second. Then one of the other servicemen pulled out
a military looking walkie-talkie.

They started playing with the device and talking back
and forth on it. After about 10-15 seconds of this, the young soldier walked
back over to Courtney, bent down and said this to her, "I spoke to your daddy
and he told me to give this to you." He then hugged this little girl that he had
just met and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He finished by saying "your daddy
told me to tell you that he loves you more than anything and he is coming home
very soon."

The mom at this point was crying almost uncontrollably
and as the young soldier stood to his feet he saluted Courtney and her mom. I
was standing no more than 6 feet away from this entire event unfolded. As the
soldiers began to leave, heading towards their gate, people resumed their
applause. As I stood there applauding and looked around, there were very few dry
eyes, including my own. That young soldier in one last act of selflessness,
turned around and blew a kiss to Courtney with a tear rolling down his cheek.

We need to remember everyday all of our soldiers and
their families and thank God for them and their sacrifices. At the end of the
day, it's good to be an American. RED FRIDAYS ----- Very soon, you will see a
great many people wearing Red every Friday. The reason? Americans who support
our troops used to be called the "silent majority". We are no longer silent, and
are voicing our love for God, country and home in record breaking numbers.

We are not organized, boisterous or over-bearing. We
get no liberal media coverage on TV, to reflect our message or our opinions.
Many Americans, like you, me and all our friends, simply want to recognize that
the vast majority of America supports our troops.

Our idea of showing solidarity and support for our
troops with dignity and respect starts this Friday - and continues each and
every Friday until the troops all come home, sending a deafening message that...

Every red-blooded American who supports our men and
women afar will wear something red. By word of mouth, press, TV -- let's make
the United States on every Friday a sea of red much like a homecoming football
game in the bleachers.

If every one of us who loves this country will share
this with acquaintances, co-workers, friends, and family. It will not be long
before the USA is covered in RED and it will let our troops know the once
"silent" majority is on their side more than ever, certainly more than the media
lets on.

The first thing a soldier says when asked "What can we
do to make things better for you?" is...We need your support and your prayers.
Let's get the word out and lead with class and dignity, by example; and wear
something red every Friday.

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The Bank: Well, Mr.
Customer, we don't want to see you do that, but we can't stop you. I'll help you
close the account. What is your account number?

Customer:
(gives account number)

The Bank: For
security purposes and for your protection, can you please give me the last four
digits of your social security number?

Customer:
No?

The Bank: Mr.
Customer, I need to verify your information, but in order to help you, I'll need
verification of who you are.

Customer:
Why should I give you my social security number? The reason I'm closing my
account is that your bank is issuing credit cards to illegal immigrants who
don't have social security numbers. You are targeting that audience and want
their business. Let's say I'm an illegal immigrant and you've given me a credit
card. I have a question about it and call for assistance. You wouldn't be asking
me for a Social Security number, would you?

The Bank: No sir, I
wouldn't.

Customer:
Why not?

The Bank: Because
you would have pressed '2' to speak in Spanish. We don't ask for that
information when calling in on the Spanish line.

I hope
the following 14 reasons are forwarded over and over again until they are read
so many times that the reader gets sick of reading them. I have included the
URL's for verification of the following facts.

11. During the year of
2005 there were 4 to 10 MILLION illegal aliens that crossed our Southern Border
also, as many as 19,500 illegal aliens from Terrorist Countries. Millions of
pounds of drugs, cocaine, meth, heroine and marijuana, crossed into the U. S
from the Southern border. Homeland Security Report: http://tinyurl.com/t9sht

If this doesn't bother you then
just delete the message, but on the other hand, if it does raise a concern, then
forward it to every human in the country including every representative in
Washington, DC for four times a week, for a month.

Some people come into our lives and
quickly go. Some stay for a while and leave footprints on our hearts. And
we are never, ever the same.--

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I don't know what
you guys are paying for gasoline.... but here in California we are also paying
higher, up to $3.50 per gallon. But my line of work is in petroleum for about 31
years now, so here are some tricks to get more of your money's worth for every
gallon.

Here at the Kinder
Morgan Pipeline where I work in San Jose, CA we deliver about 4 million gallons
in a 24-hour period thru the pipeline. One day is diesel the next day is jet
fuel, and gasoline, regular and premium grades. We have 34-storage tanks here
with a total capacity of 16,800,000 gallons.

Only buy or fill up
your car or truck in the early morning when the ground temperature is still
cold. Remember that all service stations have their storage tanks buried below
ground. The colder the ground the more dense the gasoline, when it gets warmer
gasoline expands, so buying in the afternoon or in the evening...your gallon is
not exactly a gallon. In the petroleum business, the specific gravity and the
temperature of the gasoline, diesel and jet fuel, ethanol and other petroleum
products plays an important role.

A 1-degree rise in
temperature is a big deal for this business. However, the service stations do
not have temperature compensation at the pumps.

When you're filling
up do not squeeze the trigger of the nozzle to a fast mode. If you look you will
see that the trigger has three (3) stages: low, middle, and high. In slow mode,
you should be pumping on low speed, thereby minimizing the vapors that are
created while you are pumping. All hoses at the pump have a vapor return. If
you are pumping on the fast rate, some other liquid that goes to your tank
becomes vapor. Those vapors are being sucked up and back into the underground
storage tank so you're getting less worth for your money.

One of the most
important tips is to fill up when your gas tank is HALF-FULL or HALF EMPTY. The
reason for this is, the more gas you have in your tank the less air occupying
its empty space. Gasoline evaporates faster than you can imagine. Gasoline
storage tanks have an internal floating roof. This roof serves as zero clearance
between the gas and the atmosphere, so it minimizes the evaporation. Unlike
service stations, here where I work, every truck that we load is temperature
compensated so that every gallon is actually the exact amount.

Another reminder,
if there is a gasoline truck pumping into the storage tanks when you stop to buy
gas, DO NOT fill up---most likely the gasoline is being stirred up as the gas is
being delivered, and you might pick up some of the dirt that normally settles on
the bottom. Hope this will help you get the most value for your money.

DO SHARE THESE TIPS
WITH OTHERS!

WHERE TO BUY USA
GAS, THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT TO KNOW. READ ON

Gas rationing in
the 80's worked even though we grumbled about it. It might even be good for us!
The Saudis are boycotting American goods. We should return the favor. An
interesting thought is to boycott their GAS.

Every time you fill
up the car, you can avoid putting more money into the coffers of Saudi Arabia.
Just buy from gas companies that don't import their oil from the Saudis.

Nothing is more
frustrating than the feeling that every time I fill-up the tank, I am sending my
money to people who are trying to kill my family, my friends, and me.

I thought it might
be interesting for you to know which oil companies are the best to buy gas from
and which major companies import Middle Eastern oil.

These companies
import Middle Eastern oil:

Shell........................... 205,742,000 barrels

Chevron/Texaco......... 144,332,000 barrels

Exxon
/Mobil............... 130,082,000 barrels

Marathon/Speedway... 117,740,000 barrels

Amoco............................62,231,000 barrels

Citgo gas is from
South America, from a Dictator who hates Americans. If you do the math at
$30/barrel, these imports amount to over $18 BILLION! (oil is now $90 - $100 a
barrel)

Here are some large companies that do not import Middle Eastern
oil:

Sunoco..................0 barrels

Conoco..................0
barrels

Sinclair.................0 barrels

BP/Phillips............0 barrels

Hess.......................0 barrels

ARCO....................0 barrels

If you go to
Sunoco.com you will get a list of the station locations near you.

All of this
information is available from the Department of Energy and each is required to
state where they get their oil and how much they are importing.

But to have an
impact, we need to reach literally millions of gas buyers. It's really simple to
do.

Now, don't wimp out
at this point... keep reading and I'll explain how simple it is to reach
millions of people!!

I'm sending this
note to about thirty people. If each of you send it to at least ten more (30 x
10 = 300)....And those 300 send it to at least ten more (300 x 10 = 3,000)
and so on, by the time the message reaches the sixth generation of people, we
will have reached over THREE MILLION consumers!!!!!!! If those three million
get e excited and pass this on to ten friends!! Each, then 30 million people
will have been contacted!

If it goes one
level further, you guessed it...THREE HUNDRED MILLION PEOPLE!!!

Again, all you have
to do is send this to 10 people. How long would all that take?

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